Here for you
by Focussight
Summary: When Harry gets his arm broken in a Quidditch match, Ron is determined to be there for his best friend. One-shot, slash. Rated K because there's nothing mature in this story, just good ol' adorable kiddy crushes.


**A/N: This one-shot basically came out of the fact I was reading Chamber of Secrets today, and this scene came up... as a huge supporter (and addict :P) of Harry/Ron, I thought to myself "What would happen if Ron had refused to leave Harry alone that night?" and then this happened. This is literally just something I wrote out of boredom and needing to get the idea off my chest. It's probably got quite a few grammatical or spelling errors in it but I literally wrote this on the spot. I didn't plan anything, I just opened Word and wrote this. I did edit a few things along the way so it's not _that_ bad, but still... it's not the best I can do. At least the paragraphs and sentences aren't as painfully long as they were in 'Any other way' chapter 1 (see, I said I'd improve and I did! :D).**

Here For You

It was his second year at Hogwarts, and Harry had just gotten his arm broken by a fixed bludger. Brilliant. And to make matters worse, Mr. Bighead Lockhart had tried to fix the broken bones... accidentally removing all the bones in Harry's right arm. Fantastic. At least Gryffindor had won the game, due to Malfoy being far too busy laughing at Harry to realise the Snitch was literally hovering in his ear, and at least the bludger hadn't murdered Harry... there had been too _far_ too many incredibly close calls with that thing for his liking in that match.

The churning in his stomach refused to settle down as he lay in the hospital wing, with Ron and Hermione kneeling at either side of the bed. It was getting dark, and according to Madame Pomfrey, he had an immensely painful night ahead of him... "re-growing bones is nasty business," as she'd so harshly put it. Harry could feel the dread building up inside of him at the thought of what was about to happen, but it helped to have Ron and Hermione at his side at a time like this. Especially Ron, but he would never admit that to anyone... he was pretty sure Hermione had figured it out at some point, though, considering the look she gave him when Madame Pomfrey insisted that she leave. Well, to be fair, she had insisted that they _both_ leave but Ron had adamantly refused, saying that Harry needed something to distract him from the pain.

This was true, Harry thought to himself, but that didn't change the fact that only Ron had refused to leave. Then again, Hermione had never been keen to break rules, so maybe that was the reason... no, Harry would never be able to make himself believe that the sheer amount of fear and support he saw in Ron's eyes at that moment was just coincidence.

In any other situation, Ron's hand on his in the middle of the night would be a reason for Harry to freak out and almost lose himself to a panic attack, but right now he was too busy worrying himself sick about just _how much_ it hurt to grow back all the bones in your right arm over the course of one night. The vile potion burned his throat as Madame Pomfrey fed it to him – Ron was still anxiously gripping Harry's only working hand – which only caused Harry even more pain, much to his disgust. Just before the potion began to take effect, the two boys shared a moment of just staring, mirroring the same feelings back to each other in their eyes: fear, anxiety, nervousness, silent statements of "help me" and "I'll help you" (respectively), and... love? No, that was just Harry's imagination... or was it?

Right now there was no time to discuss this or even think about it, because a sensation of extreme pain was making its way almost impossibly slowly down Harry's bad arm. He threw his head backwards out of instinct, scrunching his eyes shut as he tried with all his might not to scream as the flailing blob slowly reformed into the shape of a human arm. The only thing he could hear over the blood pumping his ears and his own agonised grunts was Ron's rapid, rasping, terrified breathing, and the only comforting feeling Harry had to hold onto at that time was his friend's hand squeezing his own, absent-mindedly stroking his palm with his thumb. He turned his head slightly to the left, opening his eyes just a fraction because he needed to see how Ron was doing. He didn't want him to worry too much. Madame Pomfrey had left to go somewhere – later, Harry found out she had gone to treat someone else – so it was just him and Ron now. They were alone, and usually this would have been a good thing, but Harry was too busy trying not to wake the entire school with the scream that desperately tried to force itself up his throat.

Harry tried to force his lips to smile weakly as he looked at Ron in that moment, to show that the taller boy _was_ making a difference to the amount of pain he was in, but it failed and only made the pain worse. As he shivered with intense agony, Harry's instincts had apparently tried to make his left hand grip his right arm, and it had been shifted in Ron's comforting grip with a large flinch, pulling the red-head with it. If he hadn't been in so much discomfort and pain, Harry would have apologised, but even a "sorry" was beyond him at this point, even though the pain was beginning to settle down. His face was probably redder than Gryffindor's flags at this point, and his chest was probably heaving with every uncomfortable, constricted breath he took, but at least his arm felt remotely like an arm now. Biting his lip in case what he saw was somehow worse, Harry peeled his bloodshot eyes open to see that, thankfully, his arm had been restored. Letting out an enormous breath he didn't even realise he had been holding, he turned back to look at Ron, who was – undoubtedly from the sudden pull of his arm just a few seconds before - kneeling with his arm draped across Harry's waist involuntarily, his face probably as close to pure red as was physically possible. Apparently in his struggle to stop the agony, Harry's hand had gripped Ron's, instead of the other way around, before it pulled him across.

Feeling his face heat up, Harry cursed at himself under his breath in frustration as he frantically let go of Ron's hand in a panic, allowing his friend to sit back up. If Harry's heart had been beating any faster, he was sure he would've died, right there and then, from pure fright and embarrassment. He wriggled his right hand's fingers to make sure they were actually back to normal, and then, when satisfied, turned to Ron while fidgeting in his bed and muttered "S-sorry about that... I didn't mean to..." Ron just nodded as Harry's voice trailed off into silence. Apparently they were both momentarily unable to find anything to say. At least a minute must have passed before Ron spoke up, worry and tears clouding his eyes even though he was smiling warmly. "The main thing is, you're alright." then after a small pause, he looked concerned again. "You... are okay, aren't you?" Harry just nodded. He could feel his heartbeat in his cheeks now. Oh god, he must be blushing bright red by now... he silently willed his brain to stop wandering into territories that really weren't appropriate right now, not when the atmosphere was so serious and dark.

Ron must have seen something in Harry's expression that told him how uncertain he was that he was actually okay, because the freckled boy took Harry's hand in his again – by now Harry had moved his left hand back to its original position, as the pain in his right arm had stopped and it seemed to be fixed – and said "Look on the bright side," at this, Harry looked up at him, "you could've died out there if you hadn't thought so quickly and caught the Snitch so brilliantly. You should be glad you have something you're so naturally good at that you can literally be saved by it... I don't have any talents like that." By the end of this, Ron's gaze was distant, as if he was lost in his memories.

Determined to comfort his best friend, Harry shook his head disapprovingly, as if he was angry with Ron for thinking of himself so negatively, and locked eyes with the other boy before murmuring "Ron... you don't need to have a special talent to be able to do amazing things and save lives. If it wasn't for you last year... who knows what Vol-" he broke off as Ron flinched, "-sorry, You-Know-Who would've done. We could all be dead, right now, if it wasn't for you sacrificing yourself back there... heh, look at me acting like I know everything... at the time all I could think about was how terrified I was that I would lose y-" Harry broke off again, realising he'd said more than he'd meant to. He felt his cheeks heat up and gain that irritating pulse again, and looked down in a vain attempt to hide his inevitable blushing. There was a small laugh from Ron and for a while the only thing the two of them did was just stare at each other in bewilderment, as if trying to figure out a complex puzzle... that is, until Harry's gaze softened, breaking the moment of reverie between them, and he whispered "Thanks for everything, Ron," before giving what he hoped was a dazzling smile. Ron's ears turned a light shade of pink at this, so Harry could only assume he had succeeded. The last thing either of them could remember the following morning was what Ron said next...

"I'll always be here for you, Harry... there's no need to thank me."

And with that, both boys drifted off into a well-deserved, exhausted sleep, supporting each other in their arms without even thinking about it. Later on that night, although they would never know it... Hermione quietly opened the door and saw them in that awkward sleeping position. She chuckled to herself as if to say "I knew it."

**A/N: Bleh this is really bad, I'm not proud of this at all. Oh well, I was lacking inspiration to continue 'Any other way' (which I still am... not to worry, it'll probably come soon enough since I'm addicted to looking through the old pages of the Phoenix Wright Kink Meme at the moment) and was full of inspiration to write this little fluffy scene.**


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